While Holly was sleeping off the consequences of revelry, Artemis boarded the usual ferry at the usual time, if not the usual date. He met with Amber for casting lessons on the weekend, and he appreciated the solitude. On weekday mornings, the morning boat to Patch was packed with dozens of Hunter hopefuls endlessly chattering to each other. He was tempted to charter a bullhead, but a twice daily jaunt from the city would add up fast. His accounts were quite healthy, but Aurum Technologies was only barely beginning to sustain itself. Expanding from R&D to production unfortunately had to take priority over such frivolous expenses.

He expanded his scroll to its tablet dimensions, briefly lamenting the absence of laptops in Remnant. Without a real internet, most people in Remnant didn't have a use for a home computer at all. Scrolls were plenty for most. He would have built his own regardless, but he'd spent a solid week sending messages to the manufacturer to explain that yes he did want parts instead of a completed unit, and of course he knew what he was doing. Miles away, the monolithic computer built into his desk hummed to life as he established a secure connection and began to work.

Message Thread: B. Fontaine, Re: Project Black Powder
Dr. Fontaine, the patents have been finalized. Please move forward with phase two, I expect viable prototypes of each compound by next week. Use the smallest possible caliber for safety reasons, and prepare standard Burn and Gust rounds as controls...

Artemis became acutely aware of an argument coming to a head nearby. Some blue collar laborer arguing with a solicitor about some matter in which neither of them were correct. A mobius strip of cyclical frustration, going nowhere with increasing speed and volume. It was a struggle for Artemis to tune out the bickering and focus on the many irons in his fire.

Message Thread: M. Malachite(2), Re: Project Geode
Ms. Malachite, I am willing to let you and your sister appropriate the synthetic diamond samples (far be it from me to strip an employee of their perks) but I do actually need to seethem to evaluate their quality for their intended purposes. I also need a dossier on the company and its executives at your earliest convenience...

The morning stillness was further pierced by the banshee wailing of an upset toddler. It took every ounce of professionalism to suppress a groan. Really, it was just one thing after another today.

Message Thread: M. Malachite(1), Re: Acquisition Schedule
Ms. Malachite, please find enclosed a list of dates and times for property auctions. I've established several fronts you'll represent: 'South District Chemicals', 'Shady Dunes Cannery', and 'Skyway Distribution Caravan.' Yes, the acronyms are intentional. Most will likely see 'SDC' and simply stop bidding under the assumption they've already lost...

And now the child's mother had joined the argument, shouting at the inconsiderate men that had upset her child. With a heavy sigh he snapped his scroll shut and stowed it, musing over whether to attempt to diffuse the conflict or join it for the sheer catharsis of shouting someone down. He looked up and froze, his blood chilling in his veins. Aura surged across his skin by reflex, sheathing him in a Hunter's unseen armor as his hand darted for his knife.

Just behind the still growing conflict was a Grimm, a hulking, hunchbacked lump of a creature with an irregular coat of thick, bony scales. Its head was long, narrow, and sharp, and its crocodilian maw was open wide as if to showcase the forest of fangs within. Its brutish, clumsy arms ended in curved claws that were barbed like fishhooks. A thick, stubby tail trailed gracelessly behind it, a crude lump of black flesh studded with spiny fins dragging uselessly out of the water. An aquatic ambush predator, quietly lurking its way to the argument to snap its jaws shut over one of its hapless, squabbling victims. Artemis didn't remember leaping at it, but it screamed when he sheathed his knife in its scarlet eye. A low, hissing groan that promised painful retribution.

"Grimm!" the ferry's captain yelped, just before the Grimm thrashed its head and sent Artemis sliding across the deck planks. There was motion all around him as the passengers rushed below deck. He shook his head as he scrambled to his feet. There was a crack and a flash as a rescue flare went up, before the Grimm launched at Artemis with explosive speed. Artemis ducked low and barely missed its snapping jaws, but was sent tumbling as its uncaring bulk trampled over him like a speed bump.

"That's a Sahagin, boy!" the captain snapped as he hauled the boy to his feet. "Don't let it grab you!" The old man kept his stance loose, ready to dodge or plant himself at an instant's notice. Calloused hands gripped a weathered harpoon, a simple length of wood with a steel barb at one end. No Hunter's weapon, merely a simple and trustworthy tool.

Artemis nodded, hand reaching automatically for his knife only to swear at its absence. His eyes scanned the deck for a weapon of opportunity but this was far from the Pit. The Grimm hissed in challenge again, and he dove just in time to dodge another lunge. It was blind to the captain, unclear if by rage or by the length of metal jutting out of its ruined socket, and it rushed at him again. If it were only this, it would be easy. A simple matter to ensure one of its brutish charges ended within stabbing range of the ferry's captain. But such things are rarely simple. With a wet and meaty thud off to his left, another Sahagin leapt from the water and dragged itself clumsily over the railing. Then another joined it. And another. Artemis needed a weapon, and he needed one now. His mind raced, scanning his surroundings and searching for something, anything, before the Grimm swarmed him. His mind failed him, or perhaps the world did. There was nothing. He couldn't think his way out of this situation. He clenched his fists, hard enough for his knuckles to crack. They were all he had.

~o~o~

It was a miracle she'd seen it. A flash of red, just as she'd glanced over the treeline. A half second later and the flare would have dropped too low. A blink, and she was gone. To call it a sprint would be an insult, she was a blur as she wove through the trees. Her eyes burned with ancient power as the wind at her back grew stronger with every step. Flight was beyond her skills, but she flowed over every stone and around every tree with the grace of a leaf on the wind and the speed of the same in a hurricane. 'Just hold on,' she prayed with grim determination. 'Help is coming.'

~o~o~

Artemis flinched as claws raked across his back, but he held firm. The Grimm's jaws were wedged shut by his shoulder as he dug his thumbs viciously into its eyes. It thrashed and bucked, finally tossing him aside. Artemis barely stopped himself from tumbling the railing. His thumbs ached, and his hands were covered in black ichor. The Sahagin thrashed furiously around before its blinded gaze settled on Artemis again. He didn't question it, it was all he could do to put another Sahagin between him and it before it charged.

The old captain was faring little better, dodging left and right and harrying the creatures with his harpoon. A shallow cut on his back was pouring blood down his shirt, and he was beginning to wheeze. When the blinded Sahagin crashed into another, he seized the opportunity to drive his weapon deep into its back. With a wrenching twist, it stilled and began to sublimate. One down.

~o~o~

'Just a bit further,' Amber told herself. She'd broken the treeline and was sprinting downhill. She could see the ferry, and the black shaped writhing on the deck, and she feared for the worse. The ship was still moving, about to run aground. She could make it, but she prayed she wouldn't be too late.

~o~o~

The captain was trapped, frantically clambering on top of the cabin to stay out of reach. Artemis tugged and pulled and twisted at the harpoon, but the corpse didn't yield it until he forced his aura down its length. Like a sugar cube dropped into a cup of tea, the Sahagin lost all cohesion and released the polearm in a gout of black smoke. He barely managed to raise it in defense before the Sahagin he'd half blinded snapped its jaws around it. It began to thrash and twist, trying to wrench the weapon out of his grasp.

The boat rumbled unhappily, bucking hard as its motion suddenly stopped. The captain was knocked off the roof, and he howled in pain as he landed badly with an audible snap. Artemis' focus faltered and the Sahagin's jaws snapped the harpoon neatly in two as it threw him aside. He chucked the blunt end lamely at it, brandishing the pointy end as he waited for it to strike.

Then he felt the jaws fasten around his ankle. One of them had slunk behind him, and it had him in a jagged vice. He was allowed an instant of mounting dread before the Sahagin began to spin. He was slammed into the deck again and again, cracking his arms and his knees against the deck as the world spun. He fought to keep his aura up, gold flaring and flickering across his skin as his focus wavered. The Sahagin didn't let up, rolling him left, right, left, never letting him catch his bearings as it pulled him closer and closer to the edge of the boat. It thrashed him violently into the air, and the last thing Artemis saw was the fast approaching rail.

Artemis Fowl II opened the door to his father's study. He was proud of himself. It had only taken twenty minutes for him to pick the lock this time. He was almost tall enough to reach it without standing on his tiptoes, so it would only get easier from here. Of course, his father had watched him do it, a proud smile on his face. He'd 'lost' his key of course, and little Arty was always so eager to help his dear old father.

"Well done, my boy!" He chortled, scooping his son up and sitting him on one of the fine leather chairs. "We'll have you cracking safes by Christmas!" His son beamed at the praise, until something caught his gaze.

"Father?" He said, pointing at the wall. "Why do you have an old stick on a plag?"

"A plaque, Artemis." He smiled genially. "And it isn't a stick. It's an heirloom."

"An heirloom?" He cocked his head curiously.

"Yes, your great grandfather's shillelagh."

"But you just said it was an air-loom."

"It can be two things, Artemis." The man leaned down to ruffle his son's hair. He was so proud of his boy, always questioning and challenging. Whip smart, just like him. "Would you like me to tell you about it?" Artemis Jr. nodded happily. His father's lessons were so much more interesting than a schoolteacher's. Those lessons never ended in pound notes or shiny treasures. "A shillelagh is a weapon. Very traditional, but not much use in this day and age." He lifted the length of knobbly blackthorn gently from the plaque's hooks. He ran his handkerchief over it, brushing away a thin sheen of dust. "You see, you can't simply buy a shillelagh. Not if you want it to really be yours. The best ones were always homemade, you see. You would think long and hard about how you wanted it, and you whittled away everything that wasn't that. Then you cured it in the chimney for months and months. At least all winter long, like this one was. And if you were anything like Grandfather, you'd put lead shot or iron nails in it." He held it out for his son's eager grip, chuckling when it nearly pulled him off the chair in his surprise. "See how it's all heavy at one end? That's the lead in the wide part there. Heavy like a hammer, classy like a cane... just like Grandfather!" He looked up at the portly portrait of the man on the opposite wall, as he laughed with his bo-

Artemis snapped awake, clutching at his skull as a spike of pain pounded through it. It took a moment for his surroundings to register. A heart monitor beeping to his left, an oxygen mask on his face, and thin, sterile sheets over his legs.

"Hospital?" He groaned, his mind still swimming... swimming? "Sahagin... right." He slowly let himself lean back into the stiff pillows.

"We've got to stop meeting like this 'mud-boy,'" came a voice from his right. It sounded familiar, comforting, but somehow not quite right. The accent was different, the voice was off, yet neither of these things felt wrong. Eventually, his sluggish mind dragged the pieces together.

"Amber," He sat up again, regretting the decision almost immediately but keeping his face smooth. "I apologize for missing our lesson, but cancellation is a bit harsh-"

Amber flicked him in the forehead. "I meant peeling you off the ground after a Grimm used you as a chew toy," She huffed. "Once was plenty."

"How long have I been out?" Artemis asked, fumbling for the buttons mounted to the bedside until he found one that slowly forced the contraption to raise him to a sitting position.

"Just a couple of hours. Your leg was pretty shredded, but the paramedics flushed it out pretty well. The doctors don't think it'll get infected. Your aura should have you walking again by morning." Amber said smoothly. "I got to the scene just after you hit the rail, so the Grimm didn't get a chance to do much worse."

"The flare?"

"I barely saw it before it dipped under the treeline. They were lucky you were there." She smiled.

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Artemis chuckled.

"Artemis, you tackled a Grimm twice your size with nothing but a cheap pocket knife," Amber smirked. "I think you're allowed to be proud of yourself."

He winced. "Not my most intelligent decision..."

"I said proud, " Amber insisted, giving his shoulder a playful shove. "You handled a Grimm attack with no casualties. That's a good day for a Hunter, let alone a 'perfectly legitimate businessman.'"

"Really? None?" Artemis was honestly surprised. "But the captain-"

"-left a few hours ago on crutches, not a gurney." Amber cut him off. "You're pretty good at this whole 'saving people' thing, when you put your mind to it. It's hardly the first time if half your stories are true."

"You aren't wrong," Artemis chuckled. "Speaking of stories... have you ever heard of a shillelagh?"

~o~o~

Ruby scratched another bad measurement out, poking with mounting irritation at a calculator. Her scythe in the making, her baby , would be magnificent if she could just get the damned math right. Escher's Law wasn't quite enough to compress a scythe's blade into a rifle stock, so she was working on a fiendishly difficult assembly of sub-blades that would amount to the same thing. Her sketches were an inch thick pile of interlocking diagrams that just wouldn't fit together quite right. She dropped her pencil in frustration, leaning back in her chair. She wasn't expecting to be in the prototyping lab this long, and the teacher was busy helping Tundra diagnose what was making her new axe lock up halfway through unfolding. She'd have to wait her turn.

The door opened, and a grin split her face as Artemis limped in. "Arty!" She leapt to her feet and dashed up to him. "It feels like it's been forever! Why are you limping? You weren't there for that Grimm attack on the ferry were you?"

"It's been a week, Ruby," Artemis chuckled. "And yes, I was there. A Sahagin got the better of me but the doctor is confident I'll shake off the limp by lunch."

"Well that's a relief. I'm glad you're okay." Ruby smiled. "So did you finally figure out a weapon?"

"I think I might have," He tapped at his scroll and brought up a schematic. It was... not what she expected. It was nothing more than a stick with a weighted cylinder, and a single bolt to fasten it down with tension alone. She'd seen Vacuan pipe weapons less crude.

"Artemis... don't take this the wrong way... but this doesn't look like a very effective weapon," she gingerly tiptoed around her words.

"Ha! I should hope not. No, this is a first iteration prototype," He taps the schematic and drags his finger to move the cylinder up and down. "See, I'm not sure where I need the center of gravity to be. So I'm just going to machine a counterweight, stick it on a wooden dowel, and experiment until it feels right."

"Oh whew," Ruby sighed. "Seriously, you had me worried for a second. So what kind of weapon are you going for?"

"A shillelagh," Artemis said. He then continued with a wry smirk at the curious look on her face. "It's a traditional weapon from my homeland. Unlike most weapons, very little is standardized. A branch of sloe or oak, smoke cured for several months, and often weighted with lead or iron in its time."

"A branch?" She asked. "Wouldn't that make it all covered in knots?"

"If you wanted it that way." Artemis explained with a warm smile. "Some would sand them down, some supplemented the knots with hobnails. It depends on what sort of weapon suits you. Mine is going to wind up more akin to a cane, I think. Definitely collapsible, so it's going to be smooth. I'm going to load it with something less toxic and more durable than lead... perhaps tungsten." He continued to muse until his eyes fell on the thick stack of paper. "Well... you certainly have an ambitious project."

"I know!" Ruby groaned. "All this math is awful, but if I can't get the measurements to work then I won't be able to put her together when I get all the parts machined."

"Hm..." was his only response. His eyes flicked over the page. "Ah, I see where you went wrong. You have a transposition here. That decimal point belongs one digit to the right." He pointed, as Ruby stared at him incredulously, and dragged his finger down the string of recursive errors the misplaced dot had caused.

"...how?" She asked with a helpless gesture toward the problem that she had been slamming her skull against for the past hour. "You looked at it for like six seconds!"

"I'm good with numbers," He responded. "I can help you with this, if you like. Your theory is sound, you'd have gotten the right measurements in the end."

She was sorely tempted. An almost pained look crossed her face before she sighed. "No... I really need to be able to do this for myself. It's not like you're going to be there for every upgrade, or if I lose the blueprint and have to do all this over again."

"Fair enough, but I'm happy to check your figures for you if you need." Artemis offered. Escher's Law was complicated enough when one wasn't trying to stack a dozen parts in on themselves. Whatever this 'Crescent Rose' was, it would be an impressive machine if she managed to complete it.

"Thanks," She sighed, sitting back down at her desk.

"Ah, Mr. Fowl!" The teacher said, a sprightly faunus with a carnivorous grin and a grey stripe through her dull pink hair. "I'm Alice Cheshire, welcome to the workshop! And none of this 'Mrs. Cheshire' nonsense, call me Alice. Let me take a look at your design and we'll see where I need to start you off."

After Artemis recounted the reason for his simplistic design, he was directed to the lathe and the scrap bins. No reason to waste quality steel on the testing phase. It had been a long time since he'd used such manual tools, but this wasn't something that could be fabricated out of plastic filament. Rather than jumping right in, he asked one of the other students to give him the basics of how the lathe worked, just to be certain. He'd manufactured his own components before on a desktop lathe, but this machine was considerably larger and exponentially more dangerous. A desktop lathe could take a finger. A full sized one could take an arm. The principles were the same, however, and he was soon peeling piles of curly ribbons from the whirling wood and metal with care and precision. Alice nodded in approval as she checked his progress, but didn't interrupt.

Ruby got a fresh sheet of paper out and started copying the equation from where Artemis had pointed the error out. He'd probably saved her days, she'd been about to bite the bullet and start over from scratch. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes falling on Artemis as he finished turning the counterweight and brought it to the drill press to put a threaded hole through one side. Artemis was efficient. Every motion was smooth and intentional as he worked each tool. He lost a bit of the prim propriety she'd come to expect from him as he worked, abandoning manners bit by bit in favor of efficiency. He gathered the drill bits he'd need, slotting one into the machine and holding the others between his fingers on the hand working the lever. He tossed his watch carelessly onto the workbench, and bunched his sleeves crudely up to his shoulders to keep anything loose away from the spinning drill. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow in the heat of the shop as he worked the press, showing off the lean, corded muscle he'd been building- She shook the thoughts from her head and returned to the math... she wasn't blushing!

~o~o~

Most of an hour later, Artemis arrived at the melee gym with his new trial cudgel. Simple as it was, it still counted for the school rules against brandishing weapons in the halls, and so it had been pointlessly peace tied for its journey across campus. It didn't exactly warrant a carrying case. Artemis hadn't stopped to change into his gym clothes, not even considering the sweat. He was caught up in a creative fugue, deafened by the siren call of progress. And right now that siren demanded action, so action he would provide. He took the time to roll his sleeves up properly, took a stance, and started to swing.

Qrow leaned nonchalantly against a wall to watch. He figured there was more to the piece of shit weapon the Fowl kid had brought, and he was right. He went through several drills with the weapon. He swung it like a sword, a baseball bat, and a hammer. He twirled it like a baton. He held it high and forward, and it glowed with aura as he tried to get a feel for how it would cast without a dust crystal. Then he'd take an allen wrench to the thing, move the weight and do it all again. Sometimes an inch, sometimes a foot. He never looked quite satisfied. Something about the way it glanced off the featureless dummy was wrong. Or the way it felt in his hands. Or the strain it put on his wrists. Something was always wrong. He sighed. The kid would have to learn to make compromises eventually, but this was going nowhere. He focused on the piece of crap and funneled aura into his semblance. Better to break the thing so he'd stop wasting energy on a failure.

Artemis took the drill from the top, the counterweight barely past his thumb. The control from this position was excellent, but it had next to no impact against the dummy. He brought it down twice, striking across its limbless shoulders in sequence, then a thrust to its plastic gut. There was a bright metallic ping, and Artemis saw the screw holding the counterweight in place go flying as the weight shifted. It slammed into the dummy leaving a visible scuff in its toughened surface. The mechanical failure should have been frustrating, infuriating under normal circumstances. But not this time. Artemis looked at the counterweight, now almost at the top of the rod. That felt different. He moved the counterweight again, taking stance, and thrusting once more. That felt good. "Of course... that's the key! The center of gravity needs to be mobile to maximize versatility..."

'Alright, that's a new one.' It was lucky Qrow wasn't a betting man, because he never would have put money on this. There was a dangerous, sharp smile splitting his face. Not the usual reaction to a concentrated dose of karma. The brat tossed the weapon into a trash can nearby without looking twice at it, and unfolded one of those finicky slate scrolls. "Gravity dust could be viable... a crystal that length would be too brittle..." The kid was muttering as he worked, not breaking stride or looking up as he found his way to a bench. "Either a sequence of them or a filament through the core... use density slugs to fine-tune the mass, equalize it across all segments to maximize control..." The grin got wider. It was a grin that would inspire a pigeon to pray to its little birdy maker, for there would be no escaping the cat. "Now that is a shillelagh." He admired his new schematic, the translucent screen displaying the wire-frame model like a piece of fine art. 'A cane eh? I wonder if that old book is still lying around...'

~o~o~

It wasn't often that Qrow found himself in a library. It was even less often that he was allowed in. The librarian had a silly grudge about a couple of stains... okay it was several stains... on several books... with whiskey... whatever, she was still blowing it out of proportion. But, bad luck for her, she was in the teacher's lounge trading gossip with the marksmanship teacher. Now that guy knew how to have a good time... ah, right he was here for a reason. The book tended to move around, there was a running disagreement about whether it was fiction or not. It wasn't an often used fighting style these days. It used to be big in Atlas, but mixed martial arts were a lot more varied these days. This one tended to get popular for a bit after a new spy or detective flick made it out of Atlas. 'Not in fiction this time,' he noted, not breaking stride. 'Should have thought of this sooner,' he thought to himself. This book would stitch together everything he'd seen the Fowl kid pull in the Pit, and everything he could make of the fancy stick he was putting together. A little old fashioned, sure, but the kid had the accent for it anyway. 'Aha, there you are! Bartitsu,' he smirked as he plucked the old paperback from its shelf. It had been defaced with a blue marker at some point. It's subtitle had once been 'The Gentleman's Guide to Self Defense Through Pugilism, Artifacy, And the Mastery of Common Implements,' but it had been struck thru with a blue marker and a new one had been written under it. In Qrow's opinion, the vandal had the right idea. 'Bartitsu: Fighting Like a Bastard' had a much better ring to it after all.